


inspired by his love for My Chemical Romance

by arindo



Category: NateWantstoBattle|Give Heart Records, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Gen, fake as af, i suck at time, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arindo/pseuds/arindo
Summary: “Nate released his Sandcastle Kingdoms album (inspired by his love for My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, and Pierce the Veil, among others) in March. Fans can look forward to visuals to accompany each song from the LP throughout the year, as well as more covers like ‘Attention’.” (Source: https://www.fuse.tv/2017/08/nathan-sharp-natewantstobattle-attention-cover-charlie-puth-video-premiere)





	inspired by his love for My Chemical Romance

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday nate! i've been working on this for a while '-v- and i hope you all like it!! (plus yall know what month it is  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) thanks to my bro g for the beta!

-

 

He saw them in concert twice. Two times. He could count that on his fingers, it was not enough times, it was never enough. Until it was no more. It couldn’t be enough, because it would never again be. Like it never had been at all. Nate hated talking about it, how one fucking _facade_ affected his life so much. He lied to himself, saying it wasn’t like that, saying how it wasn’t his only motivation to keep going. Man, that’s edgy.

 

His friends used to joke about it. Nate never really had a specific music taste, but one thing stuck around in his group and it was that Nate was a _fucking emo_. Nate wouldn’t deny it, he couldn’t, there was no way he could. He didn’t hate the word, more the way everyone else interpreted it.

 

He hated how it was because of them.

 

He punched someone for it, you can ask Hunter about it. He was there. Nathan Sharp punched someone in the face for simply mentioning the name. My Chemical Romance.

 

He was sick of it, sick of how every time he listened to one song he wouldn’t stop for _hours_ until he finally cried himself to sleep. He was sick of the torture that was hiding the truth, that was holding himself back from releasing a cover. Just one. But then he would never stop. So he never started.

 

~*~

 

2004.

 

Nate hated being bored. Summer break was ending, and he had nothing to do except lie around and be unproductive as shit. He picked up his acoustic; no dice, he played a few chords then dropped it. Not literally, because Nate was very protective of his guitar. He rarely let anyone touch it, and made sure it could never fall down or get damaged in any way when it was in his own hands, scared it would fly out of his hands if he got to excited. He would make an awful lead guitarist.

 

The guitar’s name was Red.

 

The piano was downstairs and Nate was too lazy to get up. Besides, his mom might be working and he didn’t want to disrupt her. He turned on the TV and hoped to fall asleep. He was down on his luck.

 

Nate pretty much only watched MTV, because people talking made him stay wide awake for some reason. Music, even heavy metal, in a lot of cases, calmed him, and made it easier for him to go to sleep. _Ironic, I know._

 

But today he heard a band that never played before. If he was being honest, Nate was hoping for Green Day. It was that time of the day. But instead he heard a different sound. A different everything. Nate sat up and squinted at the television set. He put his glasses on with a grumble after hearing the drums and bass get added to the beginning riff. What did that say in the corner? _My Chemical Romance._ _Must be new_ , Nate assumed correctly.

 

_Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to say,_

 

Nate unconsciously tapped his foot along to the beat, or what was left of the beat, it was so fast. There was something about this band. Maybe it was the cliche high school setting music video. Maybe it was the song. He didn’t just hear the lyrics, he listened. He didn’t just hear the music, he felt it, too. It was so epic and so _punk_ and so everything that Nate liked that by the end of the song he couldn’t get his eyes off the screen.

 

_I’m not okay!_

 

Nate breathed, finally. _What kind of four-chord piece of simplistic garbage was that,_ he thought after 30 seconds. But he was lying to himself, because his heart was racing and he couldn’t get enough of the emotion he felt through that whole song. On the other hand, he wasn’t really wrong. Nate considered it mediocre at best, there was a lot of teen angst bands going around these days. The next song was without a doubt Basket Case by Green Day, Nate acknowledged with a smile, removing his glasses and laying back down. But for some reason he couldn’t sleep. That stupid-ass movie trailer-looking music video got him all excited. He wanted to feel the emotions again. He wanted to feel the revenge. He wanted to feel the romance.

 

...What was the name of the band again?

 

~*~

 

Nate didn’t go outside often, but when he did 100% of the time it was his mom forcing him to. Lucky (or unlucky) for him he had friends that liked being outside, but they also didn’t mind when Nate stayed in the shade of a large tree, reading or something. Today he was writing. He didn’t know what, but there were eraser scraps everywhere and his hand would just not stop moving on the notepad. After about 15 minutes or so his friend Lyle came over and sat next to him, not realizing his ass was right on top of a root.

 

“Mother _fuck_.”

 

Nate looked over at him. “Look where you’re sitting, dumbass,” he chuckled.

 

“Look what you’re doing, dumbass,” Lyle retorted, rubbing his ass. “If you keep writing you’ll get fucking carpal tunnel.”

 

Lyle finally settled on a place to sit with no roots. He started humming a song. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Nate said, realizing what song it was.

 

“What?”

 

“The song. It’s been haunting me during every waking moment. Now you’ve brought it back, just when I thought I lost it.”

 

“Hey, what’s wrong with I’m Not Okay?”

 

“Nothing, it’s just me.” Nate sighed, and went back to his scribbling.

 

“You have it stuck in your head, don’t you?” Lyle sneered.

 

“Fuck off, I heard it like, one time.” Nate said, not looking up.

 

“You like it?”

 

“Maybe, I don’t even know,” Nate shrugged.

 

“The band’s My Chemical Romance.” A lightbulb went off in Nate’s head when he heard it, but he didn’t visibly acknowledge it. “They just released their new album. It’s called Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.”

 

“Pfft. Edgy,” Nate said.

 

“Sounds like something you have in common,” Lyle said immediately.

 

Nate flushed slightly and pushed his glasses up distractedly. “Whatever.”

 

It was getting dark, Lyle was whistling songs (“from the album,” he said smugly, the asshole), and Nate was getting more and more frustrated with himself and his inability to have any ideas whatsoever. Lyle stood up and stretched and made a stupid noise, Nate cringed at it and proceeded to get up himself, putting his notebook into his hoodie pocket that was about the size of the infinite abyss of space.

 

Lyle checked his watch. “6:30. Hey, record store’s still open.”

 

“Cool,” Nate replied absentmindedly, walking away.

 

“Ugh, do I have to spell it out for you?” Lyle jogged over to catch up to Nate.

 

“Spell out what?”

 

“Do you want the album or not?”

 

Nate stopped. “I dunno.”

 

“Come on, I see it in your eyes,” Lyle teased. “Tell me the truth.”

 

Nate couldn’t tell what he was feeling, he couldn’t. But he had tapped along to the songs Lyle had hummed and felt a fire in him when he listened to the first and only song he had ever heard from the band. He smiled at the ground and sighed. “Well if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say.”

 

“Trust me!” Lyle cheered. “Let’s go!”

 

~*~

 

“That’s so cool.”

 

“It is,” Nate agreed.

 

“You gonna give it a listen tonight?” Lyle nudged Nate in the shoulder.

 

“Eh. You bought it. You keep it.” Nate shrugged, handing the CD to his friend.

 

“Don’t need it. I already bought it digitally.” Lyle shook his head.

 

Nate shook his head, laughing, knowing in Lyle terms that meant ‘I pirated it without my parents’ permission.’ “Should I pay you back?” Nate shoved the album into his enormous hoodie pocket.

 

“Don’t bother. Late birthday present.” Lyle waved his hand around casually.

 

“My birthday was six months ago,” Nate laughed.

 

“Fine. _Super_ late.” Lyle threw his hands up. “Is anything good enough for you?”

 

“We’ll find out,” Nate smiled, feeling the ridges of the CD case in his pocket with his fingers. He couldn’t wait to get the stupid plastic wrapper off.

 

“You’d better get cracking my friend, school starts in a week.”

 

“Oh boy, I’m so excited,” Nate said, really fucking sarcastically. They both laughed. Who liked school anyway? Even worse, since he had just moved here this summer, he wouldn’t even know anybody. Except Lyle, of course.

 

“Welp. This is my stop. See you later, Nathan.” Lyle gave a brief salute with two fingers.

 

“I’ll see you too, Lyla.” Nate giggled, and saluted back.

 

Lyle flipped him off as he went into his house, smiling. Nate stared at the now closed door for a bit, then turned on his heel to make his way towards his house. He pulled the CD out of his pocket, analyzing every part of the case. He traced the artwork with his finger, turned it over multiple times to read the synopsis and track list. But there was one statement on that piece of plastic that stuck in his mind and continued to echo in the back of his throat.

 

_A story of a man, a woman, and the corpses of 1000 evil men._

 

~*~

 

Nate unlocked his door and went through, opening his mouth to call out to his mom. But then he stopped, hearing her on the phone. She was talking to his dad. Of course.

 

“Stay safe,” he heard her say. Nate’s dad was military, and when he moved around it was pretty spontaneous. There was a point in time where he talked about the whole family moving to Germany, or something.

 

Nevertheless, Nate loved his dad. He was his dad after all, and he never missed a Father’s Day or any other events, like Nate’s or his mom’s birthday, or Nate’s parents’ anniversary. Nate missed his dad, too. He was gone a lot, and he tried to get used to it, but there were times where anxiety got the better of him at the most random times and somehow his brain threw in the “what if your father never comes home” card. He hated when that happened.

 

And just like that, it happened. “You’d think summer would be the least stressful,” Nate mumbled. He tossed his glasses and the CD on his nightstand.

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

Being a professional musician was hard work. Nate couldn’t deny it. But the motivation, the inspiration, it never stopped. He did what he did best, create from the mind, sing from the heart, and play from the soul. No matter what the song was about, a video game he was addicted to, a show that was unique, or a dream he had, he always did what he knew and never changed.

 

He hated how he was just like them.

 

He thought about coming clean about it. About telling everyone how he really felt about the band, about how he was the problem, it was never them. But that’s just stupid, right? Who would care if he didn’t cover a song from one band? Unfortunately, that band had to be the one that affected Nate the most in his entire life.  

 

~*~

 

2004.

 

Nate had a problem and he knew exactly what it was. The only problem about that was that there was no solution. Nate constantly thought there was always something he could _do_. He pointed out things he could do to change something all the time, and Lyle made fun of him for it (“this shit is out of your hands, man, just, let it be” and then continued to sing the Beatles song). There was a rumor going around that involved one of his friends; he was determined to stop it. His cousin was having a problem with her new boyfriend; Nate tried to calm her down and reassure her it wasn’t her fault. He wanted that action. He could never stop.

 

But this started a vicious cycle. He tried to make a difference in just one person’s life, but then immediately regretted it, thinking he never should have gotten involved, hyper focusing on one mistake in his words or the reaction. Just thinking about all his slip-ups and failures gave Nate a nasty headache, and he flopped onto his back on his bed with a groan, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars and patterns.

 

He still heard his mom faintly talking downstairs, and that didn’t settle him any. He saw his portable CD player on his desk, and hauled himself out of bed to get it. He picked up his headphones as well as Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge on his way back, and fell back into bed in the same position he started in. He hastily got rid of the plastic covering of the CD and popped it open, analyzing the white disk. He removed it cautiously, and opened up the player. In a second the player was closed with Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge inside. He fidgeted with his headphones for a bit before he was satisfied, then took a breath and pressed play.

 

_Long ago, just like the hearse you died to get in again_

_We are, so far from you_

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

He would catch himself humming one of their songs sometimes. Ones he had convinced himself he didn’t like as much as others, but ones he knew all the lyrics to, just the same.

 

_This ain’t a party, get off the dance floor_

_You wanna get down, here comes the gang war!_

 

You can’t own a band, right? Nate wondered. Just by being a fan? _‘My band.’_ Not in a buying and selling type of way, he thought, more in a ‘whatever you say about them comes through me first.’ And that’s how it was. He had kept his secret adoration for the band on the down-low for a while, but he casually brought them up in conversation to see if anyone was talking shit about his band. His band. It had a nice ring to it.

 

~*~

 

_2004._

 

If Nate wasn’t emo before, he definitely was now.

 

 _Three Cheers_ was now easily in his Top 5 albums. Not favorite, because _American Idiot_ just came out and it was probably the best thing that ever happened to him. He was so close to making his next term paper about this album. His initial idea was a review, but then soon realizing that was an awful idea, he tried listening to the lyrics better so he could maybe draw some symbolism out of it.

 

He did, however, write a mental review of each song after they ended. _Helena_ was obviously dedicated to someone who had died. Who that person was, Nate didn’t know, but there was a lot of love and passion in that song. Must be someone important. Like family. Nate sighed. _Give ‘em Hell, Kid_ was a bit of a polar opposite. There was elements of individuality and uniqueness, then some of a kind of rebellion of sorts. He wanted to be a part of that. If it meant rockin’ music like this, he was all in. _To the End_ was a song Nate didn’t really expect from this band. He could really hear the singer’s voice in this one, and experimented with his headphones, realizing one side just had the vocals while the other had guitars. _Cool._

 

 _You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison_ didn’t roll off Nate’s tongue very well, and resorted to just calling it _Prison_. There was another singer featured, and he sounded familiar. Nate shrugged. Nate was pretty much beat up by the end of _I’m Not Okay_ , due to throwing himself around, of sorts. He loved that song. _The Ghost of You_ began, and Nate combed his hair out of his face, still breathing hard, and thought he could just calm down through this one. He was wrong.

 

_You are never coming home, never coming home_

_Can I? Should I?_

 

His breath caught at that line. He thought about his dad. He _really_ loved this song.

 

 _The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You_ was a very strange song, in Nate’s opinion. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint exactly what it was about. He made a mental note to listen to it until he did. _Interlude_ was fucking weird, because Nate could barely hear what the singer was singing, but heard his breath _really fucking loud_ , and that made him kinda anxious, but the song was over in less than two minutes, so he was okay. _Thank You for the Venom_ was a BANGER and he wanted to learn it on guitar right away. Then he realized he missed the point of finding a hidden meaning. Dammit. _Hang ‘em High_ , well. That was something.

 

_Wait until it fades to black, ride into the sunset_

_Would I lie to you? ‘Cause I got something to say_

 

Who knew screamo sounded so fucking good? If Nate had the lungs for it he’d totally be screaming his head off by now. _Oh fuck, what would one of their live shows sound like,_ he thought dreamily. Then the chorus came around he headbanged so hard his hair went everywhere. _Hey, like that singer from the video._ Nate sighed. His hair wasn’t really like that. He knew he could grow it out like that, asian genes and all, but for the longest time he left his hair in the Billie Joe Armstrong style, meaning messy as shit and impossible to maintain. Nate thought it suited him. He still did.

 

_Oh well don’t stop!_

 

He threw himself down on the bed on the last chord and panted hard like he was the one who had performed the song. He really wanted to be. He forgotten his main purpose again. It didn’t matter though, he would listen to this album again another, say, infinite times.

 

Then the next song began.

 

_For what you did to me_

_And what I'll do to you_

_You get what everyone else gets_

_You get a lifetime, go!_

 

Nate’s eyes widened at just the opening. The way it began was like any other song, but the singer’s raw voice when he spoke the words hit Nate in a certain way. He considered how his life was going. How his anxiety sometimes got the best of him at the wrong times. How sometimes it felt like he didn’t belong. How he was never really the popular kid with a bunch of friends. Not like he really wanted that anyway.

 

_I’ve lost my fear of falling_

_I will be with you_

_I will be with you!_

 

“Hmm.” Nate said aloud. It was more of a pondering ‘hmm’ rather than a confused ‘hmm.’ He started to see a trend in some of these songs. He laughed when he finally figured it out.

 

He finished the album not long after, but no longer putting too much effort into his shadow performance. After _I Never Told You What I Do For A Living_ , Nate fell asleep.

 

~*~

 

“Okay, do you have all your books in your bag? I don’t want the same thing happening as last year, ok? I’m not in the mood for driving.”

 

“Yeah, ma.”

 

“And your lunch is packed too? Your keys, wallet-”

 

“I got it ma. Really.”

 

Nate’s mother sighed. “You’re growing up so fast.” She ruffled her son’s hair. “Already starting high school. Next thing I know you’ll be out of here and I’ll never see you again.”

 

“Not happening,” Nate laughed. “I know you’ll find a way to track me down.”

 

She laughed with him. “That’s my boy. Now get going, you don’t want to miss the bus.” She kissed Nate’s forehead. “Love you.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

~*~

 

“Fuck school.”

 

He was never excited about today. Way too many brand new faces, and Nate was now at the bottom of the food chain all over again. _Fuck_. He saw guys twice his size barreling through the hallways and cursed at them under his breath. Who needed to be some dumb jock with friends anyway?

 

Nate muttered to himself hysterically and probably had a visible dark aura around him as he wandered the foreign hallways. He hoped the aura scared everyone away.

 

“Look who it is!”

 

“Ugh, fucking finally,” Nate pulled in Lyle for a hug. “This blows man. How many classes do we have together?”

 

“Let’s find out. You got your schedule?” Nate fished it out of the back pocket of his jeans. Lyle took it and held his and Nate’s side by side. “Hmm. English, Biology, Gym, and- Oh fuck yeah! We have Music together!”

 

“Sounds great. Plus lunch, of course.” Nate joked.

 

“Indubitably.” Lyle replied, handing Nate his schedule. “First period we don’t have together though,” Nate wanted to scream. “Don’t die without me, ‘k?” Nate replied with the ‘ok’ symbol with his hand. The bell rang. “Later loser!” Lyle called. Nate was gonna miss that asshole. Even though he was only going to miss him for an hour.

 

~*~

 

When Nate walked into class there were already people in the classroom. Nate took far corner, by the window. At least no one would catch him doodling. It was math. Nate sucked at math. Some boy took the seat next to Nate, and Nate almost glared. At least he seemed cool in terms of first impressions. He was wearing a faded gray jean jacket and a _Dookie_ t-shirt. Nate squinted a bit at that.

 

“Oh, hey, sorry about sitting right next to you, there’s just no other seats. Name’s Hunter. You?” Nate almost didn’t respond. Making new friends on the first day of high school? Nate was suspicious. But this guy’s smile seemed really genuine, and Nate couldn’t resist. “Nathan. But, um, just call me Nate.”

 

“Nate, cool, nice to meet ya.” Hunter continued unpacking his bag. “Man, imma be real, but fuck geometry. When are we gonna need that shit anyway?”

 

“I know right?” Nate replied casually. He honestly couldn’t believe he did that. “Postulates and theorems are all bullshit.”

 

“You take a class like this before?” Hunter asked.

 

“I didn’t always live in Florida.” Nate sighed.

 

The teacher came in, and Nate giggled at his funny looking tie. Nate looked at Hunter when he realized he was laughing, too. Friends on the first day of school might not be so bad after all.

 

~*~

 

“Whaddya got next?” Hunter asked, eating a granola bar as they walked through the hallways. Nate wasn’t sure where he got it from. “English.”

 

“Man, I got World History. Guess I’ll see ya later,” Hunter said with a mouth full of oats.

 

“I suppose I will.” Nate had made a new friend on the first day of high school. He was dreaming. He had to have been.

 

“Farewell, Nathan.” Hunter waved and made a turn through another hallway. Nate chuckled, shaking his head, and watched him leave. So he didn’t keep his eyes on where he was walking, and ended up bumping shoulders with a jock. Fuck.

 

“Watch where you’re going,” the guy snapped at Nate over his shoulder. Nate grumbled tiredly. He could still feel the eyes of the guy on his back as he kept walking. Ugh.

 

He entered the classroom, and saw Lyle at a group table with two other guys. There was a seat open, and when Lyle saw Nate he waved at him wildly. Nate sighed and smiled, walking over to sit at the empty seat. “Looks like I’ve already been replaced,” Nate said with fake dejection.

 

“Pfft, fuck off. I knew these guys since forever, but we got split up in middle school.” Lyle sighed dramatically. “But now we are reunited!” Nate never met all of Lyle’s friends, he’d known him as long as he’d lived in Florida, but that was only a few months. Lyle was basically Nate’s only friend. Ever. Lyle threw his arm over Nate’s shoulder. “Guys, this is my buddy Nate. He’s taking music with us too!”

 

“What’s up! Nice to know I’m not the only one.” One of the boys laughed. He had brown hair and a loose hoodie on. And was that…eyeliner? “I’m Andy.”

 

The other boy waved shyly. He had long black hair and a nervous smile. Nate could relate. “Shawn.”

 

“We should start a band,” Lyle said suddenly. “I call singer.”

 

“Oh, come on, we didn’t even have auditions yet!” Andy complained.

 

“I mean, depends on the kind of music,” Shawn shrugged.

 

“Jesus, Lyle, you really didn’t plan this out,” Nate shook his head, laughing. “Were you really planning to start a band full of singers?”

 

“We could take turns?” Lyle offered.

 

The bell rang and class began. They started with a writing assignment. Nate smiled. Lyle shoved him in the shoulder lightly. “You’re glad you’re in this class with me because you get to show off,” he hissed. Nate winked at him. “Asshole,” Lyle picked up his pencil and started writing. What Lyle didn’t know, was that Nate was already finished, and his pencil hadn’t even touched the paper.

 

~*~

 

“Fuck, Nate, how do you come up with this shit?” Lyle finished reading Nate’s practice writing assignment. It was about the son of a World War II veteran finding his father’s Medal of Honor.

 

“Dunno, I just do.”

 

“They only gave us, like, 10 words to incorporate into that piece!” Andy exclaimed. “How did it all fit together?”

 

“I dunno man, shit happens,” Nate shrugged.

 

“This was really creative, I have to admit,” Shawn commented. “You write songs?”

 

“Uh…” Nate stuttered. “Sometimes.”

 

“Yeah, more like ‘every time my mom forces me to go outside I end up sitting by the tree in the park three blocks from my house and writing until the sun goes down’,” Lyle teased.

 

“Man, fuck you. Most of the time it’s useless poetry,” Nate glared at his friend.

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t know,” Lyle said, “it’s not like you show me any.”

 

“Ha ha! No _way_ am I showing you my poetry,” Nate said, his voice gradually getting louder unintentionally. He felt someone tap his shoulder. “Hello, Nathan,” he heard.

 

“Fuck!” Nate almost fell down.

 

Hunter snickered. “You miss me?”

 

“Don’t, fucking do that.” He pointed in Hunter’s face. “And yes, I did miss you. But now I’m reconsidering.”

 

Hunter laughed. “You’re never gonna lose me. I’m under your skin, Nathan, I’m everywhere.”

 

“Ugh, just fucking call me Nate.” Nate groaned. He saw Lyle pat him on the back, then, just straight up _kissed him_. On the cheek, sure, but Nate was, surprised to say the least.

 

“He does that, they’re not, y’know,” Andy shrugged when he saw Nate’s expression. “Are you… um-”

 

“It’s Lyle, man,” Nate told him, and Andy could understand. “Expect anything and everything.”

 

Andy shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

 

“I gotta go, actually.” Shawn pointed behind him with his thumb. “Algebra 2.”

 

“Nerd,” Hunter chuckled. Shawn flipped him off and jogged in the other direction.

 

“He’s probably the smart one in the group. I’m kinda the average dude, Hunter’s the geek, and Lyle’s, well, Lyle, so you know.” Andy said to Nate. “Now where do you fit in?”

 

“I’m the songwriter.” Nate joked.

 

“I can help with that,” Andy smiled, big and wide. Didn’t seem like something a dude in eyeliner would do, Nate thought.

 

“Dude, Bio’s next?” Hunter said to them both. Lyle was practically hugging Hunter’s arm. Nate heard Andy snort. “Sweet, dead things!”

 

“Not on the first day, unfortunately,” Nate said gravely. “Rumor has it we don’t even look at dead things this entire year. We just extract DNA, or look at bacteria… or some shit.” Nate tried to be dramatic, then lost it at the end.

 

“What a tragedy,” Lyle shook his head gravely.

 

“You guys are fucking ridiculous, dissection specimen make everything smell like ammonia anyway,” Andy retorted.

 

“And you told Shawn he was the nerd?” Lyle raised an eyebrow. Andy flipped him off. Nate wasn’t surprised.

 

~*~

 

Biology did suck, Nate was right. At least they got to work in pairs for some middle school recap or whatever. Everyone knew who Lyle was partnering with. Andy stuck with Nate.

 

“So you write songs,” Andy brought up conversationally.

 

“I guess,” Nate said. “Yeah. I do.”

 

“What about?”

 

“I dunno. Girls.”

 

“What a charmer,” Andy teased.

 

“I dunno man, what else is there to write about?”

 

“What are your poems about? I mean it’s obvious you have original ideas, just take the thing you made in English,” Andy observed.

 

“Thanks,” Nate smiled a small smile. “And my poems are mostly just angsty teenage things. It’s kinda stupid.” Nate started doodling in the margins of the paper. They kept working for a bit, everyone was talking and the teacher didn’t really give a shit, she was probably searching for shoes on her computer.

 

“What bands do you like?” Andy asked after a while.

 

“Green Day,” Nate sighed fondly. “Punk bands. Oh, and Lyle just got me into-”

 

“My Chemical Romance? Yes, yes I did.” _How the fuck were Lyle and Hunter done already?_

 

“Oh yeah, they’re pretty good. And I heard Green Day, my friend, is that the only reason why you talked to me?” Hunter probably meant the shirt. Nate scratched the back of his neck, laughing a bit.

 

“You heard _American Idiot_ yet?” Andy asked. Nate nodded and Andy sighed breathily. “A godsend.”

 

“Oh yeah, how was _Revenge_ ? You finish it yet?” Lyle asked Nate. _Finish_ , Lyle said. Nate probably tore through that thing a good 50 times by now. He lived and breathed that album. He listened to it whenever he had the time, needed the support, was feeling the rage. He shredded the songs on his guitar, and screamed the lyrics whenever his mom wasn’t home.

 

“Yeah, I’m making my term paper about it,” Nate said instead of all that.

 

Lyle just laughed. “See, I told you it was good.” Lyle tapped his pencil to the table. “You should totally write songs for our band, Nate.”

 

“I got nothing to write about. Plus, I don’t even know if this counts as a band,” Nate motioned at all of them.

 

“I can’t sing for shit, but I’ll play guitar if you want me to,” Hunter said. They all looked at him. “What.”

 

“So Hunter plays guitar,” Lyle said. “Shawn plays guitar and, bass? Yeah. Andy plays-”

 

“Guitar, bass, piano. But I also like the mandolin. Just sayin’.”

 

“Dude, we can be the first punk band to have a mandolin player,” Hunter said.

 

“Ugh, no thanks,” Nate scoffed. Andy glared.

 

“Nate, what do you play?” Lyle asked.

 

“Um,” He didn’t want to sound like he was bragging. “Guitar, bass, drums, piano, ocarina, does that count? Uh, cello, sax, but I’m not too good at that-”

 

“An everything. Awesome,” Lyle clapped. But it was really loud, so everyone turned to face him for a second. He didn’t notice. “You are definitely writing songs.”

 

“No way dude, that’s not my thing. Look, I’ll just be the drummer or something, I’m the only one right-?”

 

“You’re making every excuse not to do it, what’s up with that?” Lyle frowned.

 

“I’m not,” Nate kicked his own feet under the table. “I’m not good. Good enough, at least.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what Gerard thought,” Lyle said.

 

“Who?”

 

“Gerard Way,” Hunter supplied. “Lead singer of MCR. He wrote the songs. I mean, not on his own of course, but. He’s the guy.”

 

Long hair singer guy. “Oh yeah, I know that dude.”

 

“You gotta have an inspiration, it can’t be mindless,” Andy said. “Your poems might seem like teen angst, but for all you know some of these things might still affect you in the future. Mental illness exists, shit like that isn’t teen angst, it’s the reason people kill themselves.” Nate gulped. “Sorry, that got really dark, really fast, didn’t it.” Andy apologized quickly.

 

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be that deep, haha,” Hunter laughed, “but you gotta be you, y’know? Write what you’re feeling.”

 

“Yeah, I gotcha.”

 

~*~

 

_Present Day._

 

_The fuck line should I write here?_

 

Nate tapped the pencil on his chin. He hummed a little bit, to see if it would let the words come to him easier. They didn’t really.

 

_I got a burning in my heart_

_It’s tearing me apart_

 

He needed some kind of exclamation. This was the verse, he needed something to break it off from the pre-chorus and chorus. He sighed, rubbing his temples. He decided to take a break. He read for a bit, then shoved his earbuds into his ears and played a little MCR. Why the hell not?

 

_And then as razor sharp white teeth rip out our necks I saw you there_

_Someone get me to the doctor, someone get me to a church_

_Where they can pump this venom gaping hole_

 

Nate blinked and waited a moment. He reached and grabbed the pencil off his desk frantically, humming as he wrote:

 

_Somebody call the doctor!_

 

Nailed it. He leaned back in his chair slowly and hummed along to the rest of the song.

 

_Can you stake me before the sun goes down?_

 

~*~

 

_2004._

 

Nate was just about sick and tired of these dumb upperclassmen walking around like they could do whatever the fuck they wanted without consequence. That was just it. That was how he was feeling. Maybe he’d write a poem about it, or something. A kid that was pushed into a locker hurried off and out of sight. He looked around Nate’s age, and Nate remembered him from his previous class. Nate frowned.

 

Nate wandered into the cafeteria. He took a seat next to Andy.

 

“Man, it sucks that you have History without us,” Lyle sighed. “You make any friends?” Nate shook his head.

 

“Yo, why do ya look down? Something happen?” Hunter asked.

 

Nate shrugged. He didn’t want to think about Locker Kid. “Man, what the fuck. _Revenge_ is all about death and it’s the most romantically disguised emo garbage I’ve ever heard.” There was a pause. Then they all laughed. Even Nate.

 

“Dude, what the fuck, why is that so true,” Andy said.

 

“I mean, it’s not entirely true,” Lyle said. “Gerard did say it was about death, yeah, but it’s also about the importance of life and how it’s never perfect and should not be taken for granted. A live life to the fullest thing. Live, love, hate, die.”

 

“Ew,” Shawn said. “Lyle said love.” Andy high-fived him.

 

“You guys are like. Two,” Nate said.

 

“I will never grow up!” Andy exclaimed.

 

“Love doesn’t always have to mean romantic love though,” Hunter supposed. “Family love each other. Friends love each other.”

 

“Dude, I’m honestly shocked,” Shawn scoffed. “Both Lyle and Hunter saying intelligent things. When did this happen and where did our friends go.”

 

“Our combined powers have given us strength beyond mortal belief.” Lyle held Hunter’s hand and they both looked into space.

 

“Shit, they’re back,” Shawn said.

 

~*~

 

“There’s _another album_?!” Nate screeched. Gym was playing basketball, but Knockout, so basically the people that sucked at basketball got out quick. There was no better explanation for the game.

 

“Yeah, dude, _Revenge_ is their second. Personally, I liked it better than _Bullets_ , though,” Lyle shrugged.

 

“I still wanna hear it though!” Nate whined.

 

“Record shop after school?”

 

“Yeah-!” But before the word came out, Nate got hit in the face with a basketball. Lyle laughed at him.

 

Nate stood up, and dropped the ball on Lyle’s head.

 

~*~

 

“The band’s back together!” Lyle cheered when him and Nate walked into Music class.

 

Nate saw his three friends, and Locker Kid from before lunch. Nate saw him put a trumpet in an instrument locker. _Marching band maybe?_

 

“About time,” Andy rolled his eyes. “Art class sucks ass when you’re not any good at it.”

 

“Says the one who was looking at a girl for the whole period,” Shawn raised an eyebrow.

 

Andy folded his arms on the table and shoved his face in them. “Fuck you,” he said in a muffled voice.

 

Nate noticed Locker Trumpet Kid (Nate needed a new name for him, seriously) look in his direction, possibly recognizing Nate from History. Nate smiled and gave him a small wave. The boy blinked in shock, then smiled back. “Well,” Nate turned back to his friends, “you don’t suck at music, so I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”

 

“Fine by me.”

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

_A California sun incinerated who I am_

 

Nate loved that line. He did, because it was true. True about himself, true about all the other people who lost their individuality by moving to the hotspot of LA. Nate hoped for new opportunities when he moved out here, and he got them, and he was happy. He really was. He could voice act like he always enjoyed doing on his free time, and he could make music in his own studio. But it just wasn’t the same. Sometimes he felt out of touch with the world. Maybe too high up. Or maybe crashing down. He didn’t want that for himself. He loved what he did. He always would.

 

~*~

 

_2004._

 

“Fuck my life,” Nate grumbled. “Fuck my _life._ ”

 

Nate had spent some time at school by now. He learned more about his new friends, and even though not all of them were into the idea of starting a band, Nate found out Shawn could mix audio like a champ and Andy was practically bouncing in excitement when Nate asked if he wanted to cover a song with him for the upcoming talent show. However, today was not one of those great days.

 

“Hey, Nathan is that you?” Hunter caught up with him. “Dude, I didn’t know you wear glasses.” Oh yeah, and Hunter. Nate was in awe about how much he knew about video games, despite not knowing much else.

 

“I don’t,” Nate pushed them up for probably the millionth time that day. “I forgot to get new contacts.”

 

“Little nerd boy,” Hunter teased. Nate glared threateningly. “I’m just joking, Jesus, calm your shit.”

 

“I fucking hate wearing glasses,” Nate said.

 

“Can I ask why?”

 

“For one, it makes me look small,” Nate pointed out. “And two, I can’t do anything without fear of them falling off.”

 

“Ah, cool it drama queen, it can’t be that bad,” Hunter said.

 

“You don’t even wear glasses,” Nate said. “You could never understand my pain.”

 

“I suppose that is true.”

 

~*~

 

 _Fuck glasses._ _Fuck everything_. Today there was twice as many people jeering and teasing Nate as he walked through the halls without his friends towards the only class he didn’t have with any of them. He stumbled into History with a groan, and took the seat next to Trumpet Kid. Nate noticed he wore glasses, too. He wore them sometimes and other times he didn’t. _How does he do that so casually?_ Nate envied his strength.

 

There was a substitute today. Meaning work that the sub didn’t really know how to teach, so they just leave some project to get done never. Partner project. _Ugh_.

 

He looked over at Locker Kid. “Partners?” The kid looked at him, shocked, then nodded. “Cool, I’ll get materials. Oh and,” Nate turned back for a second. “What’s your name?”

 

The kid stuttered. “Mark.”

 

“I’m Nate. As of now you’re the only kid I know in this class so how ‘bout we be friends?” Nate said. Mark laughed and Nate smiled. Nate stood up and looked at Mark for a second. He was kinda small, but the flannel he had on didn’t hide the fact that he definitely had muscle tone. Nate was impressed.

 

Nate came back with poster board and markers. “You draw?” Nate asked Mark.

 

“Pfft. I wish,” Mark said. “But I know everything about the topic, if you need any help.”

 

“Cool,” Nate replied.

 

He didn’t want to bring up how he saw Mark being pushed around in the halls. They talked for a bit though, since everyone else was. Mark liked video games. He and Hunter would make good friends. “And besides you being the only friend I have, you’re also the only other Asian kid I know here, so.”

 

“You’re Asian?” Mark turned to Nate like he was shocked.

 

“Half Korean. Yup.”

 

“No way, me too!” Mark said. “Man, I gotta tell my brother. My other friends, they’re not in this class, but, none of them are Asian. Nor do they have music class with me. You’re in music, though, right?” Nate smiled and nodded. “Nice.”

 

“Yeah, us Asian nerds gotta stick together or we’ll be trampled,” Nate joked.

 

“Ugh. You know it,” Mark said.

 

~*~

 

“Well, awesome to meet you, Nate. My friends are at the table over there, you need somewhere to sit?” Mark offered.

 

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks though. See you around, Mark,” Mark waved and hurried off. He sat at a table with three guys, and talked to them with his hands flailing wildly. Nate laughed.

 

“Finally got around to talking to him, huh?” Nate felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. Nate turned to see Hunter.

 

“Yeah! I think you’d like him. He loves his video games,” Nate said in a sing-song voice.

 

“Nathan, that is, quite frankly, gay,” Hunter said. Both of them laughed. “I heard you guys had like, what, the _exact same_ nationality?”

 

“Huh. Yeah. I guess you’re right,” Nate supposed.

 

“Wow. Observant,” Hunter said.

 

“Shut up. Oh yeah, I heard we’re doing actual things in Music today,” Nate said, shrugging Hunter’s arm off his shoulder. “Let’s hope I don’t die during Gym before then.”

 

“I hope so too, my friend.”

 

~*~

 

They didn’t actually do anything in Music. There was a substitute. Just their luck. There was no work left behind, and no one had homework, so they basically did nothing.

 

Lyle got up and stretched. “Welp, I’m sick of this shit, who wants to skip and walk to the record shop?”

 

“Dude, like _leave school_?” Shawn said in disbelief.

 

“Uh, yeah. This is our last period, and it’s not like we’re missing anything.”

 

“I mean, if you plan it correctly, it’s not a bad idea,” Hunter pointed out. “We got all our books, plus the door’s right there,” he added, pointing at the emergency exit.

 

“Ugh, we’re not even through the first month and I’m exhausted,” Andy yawned. “I’m outta here too.”

 

“Nate?” They turned to him.

 

Nate bit the inside of his cheek. “Nah man, I don’t wanna leave Mark all by himself.” At the sound of his name, Mark looked up. Nate waved. Mark waved back with a timid smile when he saw all of Nate’s friends standing.

 

“Ugh, fucking killjoy, I swear.” Lyle picked Nate up by the arm, with Nate shooting back a ‘hey!’ in protest. “I wanted to skip because you still didn’t buy _Bullets_ , you idiot.”

 

“...Oh.”

 

“We can bring Mark too, I guess,” Shawn said. “I’m sure he likes music.”

 

“Dude, what are we gonna say to the sub,” Andy said in a harsh whisper.

 

“This guy’s really nice, you can trust me with that one,” Hunter said. “Yesterday we had a full conversation about Legend of Zelda, it was pretty great, he has a tattoo-”

 

“So you can convince him to let us leave?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Let’s blow this joint, fellas,” Lyle said.

 

~*~

 

“So, where are we going?”

 

Nate noticed Mark had a slight lisp. Nate didn’t mind. “Record shop. You got money with you?”

 

“Hmm. I don’t really… listen to music? Haha, I know that may sound surprising,” Mark scratched his arm absentmindedly.

 

“That’s cool man, everyone has their thing,” Nate assured him.

 

“You have arrived at your destination!” They heard Lyle call from ahead. He held the door open for everyone as they went in.

 

Nate watched Andy go straight for the vinyls and Shawn slipped on the headphones in the back of the store. Lyle slipped to the front of the store to converse with the cashier. Nate knew that guy, only because Hunter had introduced them once. Nate knew his name was Jon, but Lyle always called him-

 

“Shady! What’s up, you work here now?” He gave the guy a solid high-five. Andy whistled lowly.

 

“Yeah, part time, no better place, in my opinion,” Shady said. “Plus, I’ve heard you and Nate have been the only good customers we’ve gotten. What can I do for you today, my friend?”

 

“Well, Nate here needs _I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love_ , and I, in fact, will get… ” Nate zoned out and followed Mark around for a bit.

 

“I can give you some recommendations if you want,” Nate offered. “Although, my taste is not for the faint of heart.”

 

“Yeah, I could probably tell,” Mark laughed.

 

Nate smiled. He spotted Hunter near the corner of the shop, and walked over. “Whatcha lookin for? I thought you already had _American Idiot._ ” Nate chuckled.

 

“Hmm? No, I was actually looking for _Meteora_? Knew my parents would never let me go to this shop again if they knew I was buying it, so.” Hunter shrugged. “Point is, the only time I go to the record shop is when Lyle goes. I sneak buy all the shit I have. Parents suck.”

 

“Huh.” Nate looked around. “What band?”

 

“Linkin Park.”

 

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of those guys.”

 

“Fuck yeah, those dudes produce solid music. Totally recommend.”

 

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

~*~

 

_Years later, 2007._

 

Linkin Park went on tour with My Chemical Romance on Projekt Revolution 2007 in support of their newest album _Minutes to Midnight_. Nate and Hunter wanted to go, but they were both outvoted by the rest of them, who were still salty Mikey wasn’t touring with them.

 

Fortunately, though, Nate was relieved he didn’t ask his parents for tickets because, well. He’d seen the videos from the first shows.

 

~*~

 

_2004._

 

“He sounds like a _baby_.”

 

“A punk-ass screaming baby,” Lyle corrected.

 

“A baby,” Nate repeated.

 

Lyle flapped a hand at him. “Have fun turning this one into a term paper too, or whatever. But this one’s pretty angry, so that’s all I got. See you tomorrow, Nate.”

 

“Later.”

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

Nate didn’t just love My Chemical Romance for their music. And he knew many others agreed. Nate loved MCR for their unique character,  unique style, and ever-changing theme.

 

He loved them for their love for music.

 

He loved Ray Toro for his dedication. His skill was in a league of its own, and even after MCR it was clear his mind was set on continuing music.

 

He loved Mikey Way for his strength. Despite hardships in his personal life and the band’s evolving lifestyle, he pushed through.

 

He loved Frank Iero for his passion. Any time Nate watched him perform onstage, he knew there was no place he’d rather be.

 

He loved Gerard Way for his compassion. He might be screaming the lyrics to the music he wrote, but he wore his heart on his sleeve when he did it. In between songs, all eyes were on him when he told everyone they were never alone.

 

Nate wanted to be just like them.

 

~*~

 

_2005._

 

“Dude. Dude. Nate. Nathan. Nathan Smith. I swear to God if you make me use your middle name, young man, I’ll-”

 

“Shut the fuck up for just two seconds Hunter, I need to finish this before the period ends,” Nate hissed.

 

“I need to tell you something though,” Hunter whined.

 

“Can it wait five minutes? Class is almost over.”

 

“No. It can’t wait.”

 

“Well too bad.” The bell rang just then. “Just your luck.”

 

Hunter surged out of his seat, helping Nate pack. (“Just more homework for me,” Nate muttered. “Nerd,” Hunter replied, even though at this point, when anyone in the group called anyone else a nerd, it was a term of endearment.)

 

They’re more than halfway through the school year, and it’s not getting any easier. Nate’s sleep schedule would range from him collapsing into bed at 9pm after a project out of pure exhaustion, or staying up until 2am on just homework. Music was really helping him get through the grudgingly long hours of work, even if his mom got mad at him when he didn’t hear her call him downstairs for dinner.

 

“So what the hell is so important you had to interrupt my work, and give me more homework to do, fuck you by the way.”

 

“Come on Nathan, you don’t mean that,” Hunter shoved Nate’s shoulder lightly. “But it is really important though.”

 

“Uh huh. Like what.”

 

“You’ll never guess. Trust me.”

 

“Last time you told me something was this important Chorus was doing a song in French about prostitutes,” Nate recalled. It made him glad he never signed up for any of the musical ensembles.

 

“Even better than that.”

 

“Ok, now I’m interested.”

 

“Awesome,” Hunter grinned. “Now we just have to wait until we’re with the rest of the gang to tell them.”

 

“Man, fuck you!”

 

~*~

 

It took half an hour for either Hunter or Lyle (apparently he too had already found out the big secret) to tell the rest of them what the actual fuck was going on.

 

“So, are you going to tell us?” Shawn picked at his lunch impatiently.

 

“Ok, ok. So,” Hunter started.

 

“Hey, no fair. You’re telling them? This is homophobia at its finest,” Lyle interjected.

 

Hunter blinked. “For the sake of having, literally _no_ idea what the fuck you just said, I guess you can tell them.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Ok so,” Lyle was fucking, vibrating or something. It was actually pretty funny if Shawn, Andy and Nate weren’t about to punch him in the face. “Green Day’s going on tour!” - and when there was no response at first - “Here!!!!!”

 

“Fuck yeah!” Andy said immediately.

 

“About time they came here,” Shawn said through a mouthful of food.

 

“And you’ll never guess the best part,” Hunter said, glancing at Lyle for confirmation he could break the news. “Guess who they’re touring with.”

 

“Well, the first leg had Simple Plan and Jimmy Eat World, right?” Nate remembered. “Still them?”

 

“Nate’s gonna lose his shit,” Lyle nudged Shawn. Shawn grumbled.

 

“Better. My Chemical _fucking_ Romance.” Hunter said through a smirk. Shawn spit out his water.

 

“Bull _shit_ ,” Nate said.

 

“Do I ever lie, Nathan?”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“Fair point.”

 

“He’s not lying,” Lyle said. “First show with them’s in Miami. April. Happy birthday.”

 

“Early again, my friend, my birthday’s-”

 

“In two months, I _know_ , God, you remind me enough.” Lyle giggled and Nate pouted. “But trust us on this, we’re getting these tix for your birthday. Pretend to be surprised when we do.”

 

“I hate you guys. So fucking much,” Nate said half-heartedly, mostly through a laugh.

 

“You love us,” Hunter assured him.

 

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

“Really takes you back, huh?”

 

Nate exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He adjusted the phone when it started to slip off his shoulder. “You have no idea.”

 

“I might. You know, since I was there and all.”

 

“Thanks for reminding me, Andy. I truly had no idea.”

 

“I still can’t believe you’re asking me to do this,” Andy sounded exasperated over the phone.

 

“Tour with me?”

 

“Well, yeah, that of course, but that seems so far away,” Andy said. “This cover album though, it seems like quite the feat.”

 

“I’ve already sent out all the emails, just gotta wait for the responses.” Nate stretched in his desk chair.

 

“You know they won’t say no to you,” Andy laughed.

 

“You don’t know that. Cristina still didn’t get back to me about our cover,” Nate told him.

 

“Hmm. Actually, if I remember correctly, you told me you were too nervous to email her-”

 

“Oh, shut _up_ !” Nate yelled, flustered. Andy just cackled. _What was he, a teenager?_ “You still wanna do this cover with me, or not?” Nate threatened.

 

“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry,” Andy said, fake-apologetically. “I could never turn down covering Holiday by Green Day with the great NateWantsToBattle. Again,” he added, laughing.

 

“That’s more like it,” Nate said, satisfied.

 

“So when do we start?”

 

~*~

 

_2005._

 

Nate pretended (awfully) to be surprised when the guys bought him his ticket for the concert. After hours of explaining and sucking up to his mom (because she would raise her son right, and not let him leave school early just to see a show), he finally got the ok on carpooling with Lyle’s parents along with the other guys to see Green Day on the American Idiot Tour. Nate couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming.

 

So yeah. _Technically_ , Nathan Smith saw My Chemical Romance live three times. But this one didn’t count, he thought, because they weren’t the headlining band.

 

But it was the best fucking time of his _life_.

 

It was almost embarrassing how loud Nate was screaming through their whole set, and when Green Day started up? Oh, his lungs were fucking _destroyed_ by then. He made a promise to his mom not to jump in the pit, but he was just as satisfied straining his vocal cords to his favorite songs alongside his favorite people. His heart was pounding in his chest after the set, and thanked God his mom didn’t push to come with him. When he got home, he crashed onto his bed, knocked out.

 

~*~

 

“You’re serious?”

 

“You bet your ass I am.”

 

Andy had a considering look on his face. “Nate, I’d love to, really I would, but just-”

 

“Explicit? Ok, then just don’t say the word. If the audience does, not our problem,” Nate reasoned.

 

“I mean,” Andy shrugged. “It is just one word.”

 

“So that’s a yes?”

 

“Fuck,” Andy chuckled nervously. “We are totally playing Holiday by Green Day for the school talent show.”

 

“Damn right we are.”

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

“Are you putting on _eyeliner_?” Nate asked incredulously.

 

“Fuck you, I do what I want,” Andy protested. Then he continued humming. It was the song they were just about to shoot the video for. Nate could almost make out the words in his head. _We are Revolution Radio, Operation: No Control, and the headline, ‘My love’s bulletproof.’_

 

Nate continued setting up the shot as Andy worked to not poke his fucking eye out with the pencil. “No, no, not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Nate laughed, shifting a light closer to the backdrop. “It’s just been a while.”

 

“I should have done this last time, ugh,” Andy grumbled.

 

“You’re not wrong, he rocked that look ten years ago man, Holiday was the time to do that shit,” Nate agreed.

 

Andy put the eyeliner pencil down and looked at himself in the mirror. “Should I just take it off?”

 

Nate snuck a glance at his friend. “Nah man, you look fine.” He took a step back, aiming the camera. “God, this is so fucking dumb.” Andy ‘hm’ed as if to say ‘why.’ “Look at us. It’s like we’re trying to out-emo each other.”

 

“Pfft, if that’s what you think’s happening,” Andy capped the pencil. “You totally won last time. You used the blue guitar and everything.”

 

“God, I just realized,” Nate pointed to the guitar stands. “ _We have matching guitars._ ” Then they both giggled for 5 straight minutes.

 

“Nate, Nate,” and Nate wheezed out a brief ‘what’ as Andy walked closer, eyeliner pencil in hand. “Hold up, stay still.”

 

“No, no, fuck you man, I am not putting that shit on.”

 

“No, you’re not,” and Andy fucking _grinned_. “I am.”

 

“Please don’t put too much on,” Nate begged.

 

~*~

 

_2005._

 

Lyle plopped down in the seat across from Nate. “You’ll never guess what I just found out.”

 

“They found talking dogs,” Nate said.

 

“God, I wish,” Shawn said from down the table.

 

“Nope, just for you, buddy,” and Lyle slid over an article that read _My Chemical Romance Plans First Headlining Tour._

 

“Yep, I’m dreaming,” Nate said immediately. “Someone pinch me.”

 

“I could slap you if you want,” Hunter offered.

 

Nate said “please,” at the exact same time Andy said “God, no.”

 

“Maybe I could get Mark to slap me,” Nate supposed. “That kid probably throws a solid punch.”

 

“I was just offering,” Lyle shrugged. “You looked so down these past couple days. We told you that you and Andy did fucking awesome last week. What’s the deal?”

 

“I dunno if I can tell you.” Nate shrunk down even more.

 

“Come on, man, we’re your friends. You can tell us what’s up,” Andy assured him.

 

“Fine, fine.” Nate took a deep breath, resting his head in one hand. “I’m moving away next year.”

 

“Next year?”

 

“Yeah.” They sat in silence for a bit.

 

“Next year,” Shawn repeated.

 

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me by the way, it’s not like it’s been haunting me every waking moment of my life-”

 

“That means we have the entirety of this year with you! What, that’s like,” Hunter counted with his fingers, “8 whole months. Come on. We are seeing My Chemical Romance one more fuckin’ time with you, my friend, then we say so long -”

 

“Not goodnight,” Andy interrupted. “Trust me, Nathan Smith, we are _never_ going to leave your goddamn life, we are never going to let you live without us knowing what the hell’s going on.”

 

“Guys,” Nate bit his lip. He just met these guys at the beginning of the school year, and now it’s like they would die for him? This never happened to Nate. It just seemed so unreal. “Yeah. Yeah, you do that.”

 

~*~

 

_Present Day._

 

Nate kept his concert tickets in frames. He did this because he knew if he left them somewhere else, they would be torn to shreds in a matter of weeks without Nate even touching them. He hummed as he finished hanging up the one from the latest Panic! At the Disco show he went to. He took a step back at the strange collage. His eyes trailed over to _The My Chemical Romance Tour, with The Alkaline Trio and Reggie and the Full Effect._

 

He smiled, remembering the times he spent with his high school (rather freshman year) best friends. He had just emailed Mike about another music video idea. He also got a response, and this really got Nate’s gears turning. He picked up his cell phone. Nate was gonna make some fucking _calls_.

 

~*~

 

2006.

 

_:((((((( my poor bbys already gone_

 

 _Lyle, that son of a bitch._ Nate chuckled. The new school year had just started, and when the guys found out Nate was leaving right before, they threw a huge party. Nate thought the final concert they went to together was a party enough.

 

_i just left dumbass_

 

_:(((((((((((((((((((((_

 

_u kno this is a gc, rite_

 

 _Andy,_ Nate knew immediately.

 

_n u kno that were still in class rn_

 

_guys shut tf up my phones goin off rlly loud_

 

 _Shawn, oh shit, I forgot he has Pre-Calc alone,_ Nate laughed, and began to type again, but was interrupted.

 

_yall wholl cover 4 me if i go 2 sleep_

 

_no hunter dont fuckin go 2 sleep_

 

_why am i here again?_

 

That was Mark, Nate knew.

 

_music buds, rember?_

 

_k_

_just sayin nate, miss u in history dude, this shit blows_

 

Nate bit the inside of his cheek.

 

 _miss u guys 2_ , he typed, then hit Send.

 

“You’ll see them again,” Nate’s mother assured him. “I’m sure they’ll find a way to get to you.”

 

“Yeah,” Nate knew, and looked out the window. All he could see up here were clouds.

 

His natural instinct had kicked in by now, and he knew that if someone close to him was feeling down, it was his job to pick them back up. This time though, he had no one to blame but himself. His friends missed him. He never really made friends when he first started school, always pushed around and ignored. Florida was the first time he met someone he liked, that liked him back, too.

 

Nate’s phone kept chiming. Lyle was texting him solo, outside the group chat. Nate smiled. _This guy, man._

 

_dude_

_dude_

_dude_

 

_omfg wut do u want_

 

_did u hear_

 

_?_

 

_1st single off the new album, mfer. nxt wk._

 

The new album he was referring to was called _The Black Parade._ For as long as MCR had been recording it, Nate and Lyle had been keeping tabs on its progress, including its influences, the Paramour, and Mikey Way’s departure then return. When there was no news, they busied themselves by laughing their damn asses off while watching old interviews and shows. And when they heard the album was completed, they rejoiced. Andy, Shawn, and Hunter were probably just glad they would finally shut up.

 

 _oct 23,_ Nate wrote back, the release date of the album. _probably tattooed into my skull by now_

 

_better be_

 

Nate smiled. They would never shut up once this record was out.

 

~*~

 

_2007._

 

“Happy Birthday, you beautiful son of a bitch!”

 

Nate never thought he would come back home. Germany never really felt like that to him. In Florida, with his friends, he was truly home.

 

“God, I’m still bitter about them not coming here on the first leg again,” he heard Lyle say.

 

“You know it,” Nate replied quickly.

 

“Looks like I don’t need you anymore, my friend. Wait ‘till Shawn shows you what I did at the talent show,” Andy told him.

 

“Can’t wait.”

 

“Yo, did you play the newest Ace Attorney yet? Better catch up, I’m already on the fourth case,” Hunter teased.

 

“How the hell did you do that?! It barely came out two months ago!” Mark exclaimed.

 

“Sounds awesome.”

 

“Glad you’re here man, none of these freaks ever shut up, at this point I just leave my phone in my locker,” Shawn complained.

 

“Sounds like them,” Nate chuckled.

 

They chatted for a while, crazy and embarrassing stories alike, and Nate was so, so glad to be home.

 

~*~

 

“No fucking way!”

 

“Eighteen is a big year, my friend,” Hunter reminded him.

 

“Come on though, try to think of something more original,” Nate joked, still looking at the ticket in disbelief. _Right in the fucking pit. Awesome._ Lyle shoved him, insulted.

 

“This means you have to come back again, you know,” Andy reminded him. “We’re not letting you leave that easy.”

 

“You guys are the best,” Nate said, pulling them all in for a hug, one by one.

 

“Still waiting for that 40-page review you promised me,” Lyle patted Nate’s shoulder.

 

“Working on it,” Nate told him. _I could do it in no time_ , he knew. _The Black Parade_ was album of the fucking year in his book. Even though it was released last year.

 

“Ok, cake time motherfuckers!”

 

~*~

 

Nate really missed his friends. Especially when his mind became his worst enemy and he wanted to tear his fucking skin apart.

 

_any1 up_

 

He didn’t expect a response, it was already 11pm.

 

_sup_

 

Then he remembered they were 6 hours behind.

 

_nm, jus feelin shitty_

 

_u can say tht again, mps r a bitch_

_u have block schedule?_

 

_yep_

_studyin till midnite evrynite_

Nate audibly groaned at the thought.

 

_h8 tht shit_

 

_only a wk till we c u again_

 

Nate smiled despite himself.

 

_damn right_

 

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to keep talking to his friends, of course, but his head was just pounding and he couldn’t talk to anyone without risking a massive vent message. Nate sighed.

 

There were Green Day and Fall Out Boy and Panic! days, but there were also MCR days. And those were usually the worst. But they always made it better. It made him think of his family, of his friends, his home. It made him remember the heart he left in the pit, the voice he left in the arena. He needed MCR some days.

 

He groped around for his player and headphones on the nightstand. He would never get used to the new spot, he reached on the wrong side of the bed, where the stand was back in Florida, but it was now on the other side. He plugged the buds into his ears and hit play. Nate laid back down and closed his eyes, his breathing evening out as the music continued. The pain flowed out with each note, every flaw was uprooted with every chord. He tried to sleep.

 

_And there's no room in this hell_

_There's no room in the next_

_But does anyone notice_

_There's a corpse in this bed?_

 

~*~

 

A week took way too fucking long.

 

He got to the venue early, or maybe not, he was just waiting on his friends. His mom was off somewhere talking on the phone, and he distracted himself with throwing his headphones on and jamming to his favorite tunes.

 

_Some say now suffer all the children_

_And walk away a savior_

_Or a madman and polluted_

_From gutter institutions_

 

This now happened way too often to be nothing. All his friends coming together for nothing else but to see Nate. To see _this band._ Nate went to Fall Out Boy, Green Day and Panic! At the Disco shows in Germany, he was fine on his own. But when his friends were around him, it was a special occasion that could only be matched by the magnitude of a performance by My Chemical Romance. There was simply no other reason now.

 

_Just sleep,_

_Just sleep,_

_Just-_

 

Someone pulled an earbud out of Nate’s head. Nate responded with an instinctive “hey!” but then his expression changed from annoyed to elated when he realized who it was.

 

“Damn, how loud do you keep these things?”

 

“Hunter! Holy shit!” Nate pulled him in for a hug. “Where’s everyone else?”

 

“Waiting for our sorry asses. We’ve probably missed half of Muse’s set by now.”

 

Nate stuffed his iPod and earbuds in his hoodie pocket in a hurry. “Fuck!”

 

“No rush, we get to talk now.”

 

“True, plus I don’t see my mom anywhere,” Nate looked around briefly.

 

“It’s a mom thing. They’re probably in the parking lot,” Hunter pointed behind him with his thumb. “Anyway, how you been?” They started walking into the venue.

 

“Better now, actually, how ‘bout you?”

 

“Alright, we all miss the shit out of you though,” Hunter sighed. “Lyle’s mood’s been getting worse, bet he’s just sick of waiting,” he interrupts himself to laugh. “Plus he’s in an even worse mood cause just two shows ago Mikey left the tour. So yeah, uh, don’t be surprised if he attacks you just -” he motions with his hand “- full on sobbing.”

 

“Mikey left? Shit, man, Andy must be so pissed,” Nate recalled Andy’s love for playing the bass. He always insisted on it any time they played together. The first year Nate wasn’t at school, Nate remembered Andy played the mandolin at the annual talent show.

 

“He’s getting over it,” Hunter chucked.

 

He opened the door to the arena then suddenly neither of them could hear each other anymore. “FOLLOW ME!” Hunter yelled over the music. “I KNOW WHERE THEY ARE!”

 

Nate replied with a silent nod as they weaved through the crowd. By the time they found the rest of the gang, the area was in complete chaos. Little did they know, it was about to get a lot fucking more chaotic.

 

~*~

 

As soon as Muse’s set ended, Nate saw some people leave. His immediate thought was, _why?_ Then, as expected, Nate was attacked by a hug.

 

“My bestest friend has returned from the war!” Lyle exclaimed.

 

Biting back the almost convenient song lyric response, Nate replied, “I missed you too, buddy.” He turned to all his friends. “I missed you all.”

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

“- telling you that you’re wrong, telling you who to love, what to do, what to make of yourself. What’s right, what’s wrong, what you should like, what you need to dislike, and I just need to say, that they can’t tell you shit.” Nate is rewarded with the roar of the crowd. “‘Cause this is your life, this is your night,” he sneaks a look at Shawn, who gives him a nod. The track begins to play, and Nate glances over at Andy, who tips his hat and shoots back a knowing smile. It’s almost like a dream. Nate’s _up here_ , yelling into _his_ _microphone_ , and hundreds of kids are _down there_ , cheering for _him_. There’s no place he’d rather be, Nate thinks, onstage with his friends. Now, he’s truly home. “And you need to Reclaim Your Throne!”

 

~*~

 

_2007._

 

“Can you even hear me right now?” Andy giggled almost hysterically.

 

“Barely,” Nate said. His ears were still ringing. Not as much from the screams from the crowd they had just left, but in remembrance of that final note of _So long and goodnight._ He still saw flashes behind his eyes of the nearly seizure-inducing lights and felt the heat on his skin from where he felt the flames that erupted on stage. His throat still burned from scream-singing and his, _everything_ still hurt from basically moshing in the pit. “First day of adulthood, what’s up with that.”

 

“Who’s the one forgetting your birthday now?” Lyle laughed. He was basically yelling, which already answered Andy’s initial question.

 

Nate flapped his hand lazily. “Sticks and stones,” he told him, which added to the theme of no one saying anything that made any sense.

 

“Guys, I’m afraid I have a confession,” Hunter said.

 

Lyle giggled. “‘Sup?”

 

“I feel like… like during the show I enjoyed us being together more than the show itself.” Hunter shrugged, then pressed his palms to his temples. His head probably ached just as bad as the rest of them.

 

“Nothing wrong with that though,” Shawn agreed. “I think we were happy that we could still have moments like this just like we used to.”

 

Nate blinked. It finally hit him. “I guess… I guess we kinda have MCR to thank for bringing us together again,” Nate laughed nervously. “That probably sounds dumb.”

 

“Not at all,” Andy interjected. “We’ve never had this much fun at any show, _ever_. Especially the ones without you.”

 

“You go to shows without me?”

 

“What, and you don’t?” Lyle raised an eyebrow.

 

“Point,” Nate supposed. Then his face dropped. “But you guys at least have _each other._ ”

 

“Trust us, Nathan, there is a hole in all of our hearts where you once were,” Hunter raised his hand to his heart.

 

“I can fill it for now,” Nate told him.

 

“God, what about fucking _college_?” Shawn interjected suddenly. “We’ll all be going to different places.”

 

“Damn, you’re right,” Lyle said. “If we don’t all get accepted into the same college, the gang will be split up for good.”

 

“Good thing you forced us to all apply to a bunch of the same ones,” Nate chuckled.

 

“May the force be with us,” Andy said to the group. They all laughed for the last time that night, but not for the last time of their lives.

 

~*~

 

_2009._

 

Nate wasn’t mad about the hiatus (or hiati, if we’re counting Fall Out Boy). On the contrary, he was happy the guys were getting the break they deserved. High school ended and college began, but not without its countless downsides. Nate went to a school in Florida, but everyone wanted to get the hell out, so Nate was left alone, which he was honestly fine with. Not everyone else was, though.

 

_nevr stop txtn pls_

 

_i cant n i wont_

 

_miss u all_

 

Nate caught up with the rest of the world in terms of bands, he started getting into more Alt music but never leaving his roots in punk (he would always be faithful to Green Day). As a matter of fact, this new interest in music earned him a few band members. The band was called Count Me In, after Nate’s favorite All Time Low song.

 

Lyle was insanely jealous, and when the gang went on Skype calls he never stopped bitching. Nonetheless, he couldn’t wait until he could see his friends again. Years passed and in order to keep up with tradition they waited for MCR to come to Florida again.

 

~*~

 

Nate wasn’t a big fan of the new album.

 

This kind of sucked, because this also meant that he didn’t really want to see them on the tour because he wouldn’t really know the songs (his original excuse), but also everyone was everywhere and had shit to do and could never really get together because there was never any time. Nate’s band had actually taken off a bit, a few months before _Danger Days_ had been released CMI starting playing shows around Florida, and Nate never felt more alive than he did on that stage.

 

He also did something he’d never admit to anyone’s face. He embraced his inner emo. It was subtle, he thought, because his band was mostly pop-punk/alt based. He let his hair grow long, and it came to the point where he had a fringe over his eye, which he laughed at once his friends started to notice during the video calls. It was too straight, though, too asian, and he could never get it all fluffy and cool-messy like Gerard had it in 2004. Nate always liked his hair, especially now with the red. It was like every color was good for him. Nate wouldn’t dye his hair though. His mom would literally kill him.

 

~*~

 

_2011._

 

“This was so much better, what the fuck.”

 

“Bullshit man! Did you even read the _Danger Days_ comic?”

 

“The comic was worse than the album! Val Velocity should have died.”

 

“Amen.”

 

“Okay off topic, but _Vices and Virtues_ , guys.”

 

“Ballad sucked, Kill Tonight should have been the first single.”

 

“Hey! I actually liked Ballad, thank you very much.”

 

“ _A Thousand Suns…_ ”

 

“Not as good as the rest.”

 

“Yeah, not enough screaming.”

 

“Blackout!”

 

“Shinoda’s a bad singer.”

 

“Oh! Did you hear Green Day’s having a ninth album?”

  
“Sweet! _Breakdown_ was so good, did anyone see the Idiot musical?”

 

“Nope, too far away.”

 

“Too goddamn expensive.”

 

“Billie would have hated it. It’s not gay enough.”

 

“You would say that, wouldn’t you.”

 

“Um, hello?”

 

The video calls Nate and his friends had were always lively. And at this point in time it was Lyle and Hunter’s routine debate on gay culture.

 

“So when are we getting together again?” Nate tried.

 

“Not sure, school’s got us all locked up, sorry man.” Shawn sighed.

 

“Hate to say the same, just need a break sometimes, y’know?” Nate admitted.

 

“Don’t we all,” and Nate watched Hunter take a sip of his beer.

 

“Fuckin’ nasty,” he heard Andy mutter.

 

Mark chuckled. “The man needs his fuel.”

 

“Piss water fuel, apparently,” Lyle rolled his eyes.

 

“You guys should try sake. Tastes better and works the same for me,” Shawn suggested.

 

“I love sake! We should go out for some sometime!” Nate said.

 

“As long as I get Sapporo,” Hunter pointed the opening of his bottle at the camera.

 

“You’re so gross,” Andy shook his head, smiling. Everyone laughed.

 

~*~

 

_2013._

 

Nate looked at the blog post for the 100th time. Read it over. And over. And over again.

 

It wasn’t real, right?

 

This just, it _couldn’t_ be real.

 

My Chemical Romance, it couldn’t just be… _gone_.

 

He was too scared to go on social media or any news sites, predicting all the tears he would see from those scene teens.

 

Nate didn’t cry. He respected their decision, knowing what the band had went through during their final years. He wished them luck in their years to come.

 

He’d lied to himself.

 

~*~

 

Nate left his band not long after the breakup. Not because of them, but because ever since it happened, he hadn’t been in a good mindset to play shows and write new songs. So yeah, maybe it was because of them.

 

He videocalled his friends, and they were all surprised when he didn’t bring it up. Hunter was almost scared for his health. Nate was scaringly calm throughout the whole thing, and barely conveyed any emotion when they had brought it up themselves.

 

“It sucks I won’t be able to see you guys any time soon,” was all he said.

 

The truth was: Nate wanted to forget they ever existed. He didn’t want to get caught up in all his memories of the past and get sappy over it. He wanted to remember his past for the times he had with his friends; which later on was only at their shows. He was going to cut of all emotion from the band.

 

But he just couldn’t.

 

No matter how hard he tried, Nate Smith could not give up his love for My Chemical Romance. And he never would.

 

~*~

 

_2014._

 

He didn’t cry when he listened to the best of album. Not once.

 

Time passes too quickly, Nate found. Badly pierced ears. Lyle moving back to Florida. Nate starting a YouTube channel, then another one. Releasing the first original song. First tattoo. Seeing his friends all together again. Making videos with them. Flying out to California to stay. More birthdays. More friends. More memories. And he didn’t laugh when Lyle mentioned the time no one could hear anything after they left the Black Parade concert.

 

~*~

 

_2016._

 

And he didn’t hope for a reunion once the teaser video came out.

 

Nope. He didn’t.

 

It was the 10th anniversary of The Black Parade, the album which started the tour of the last time he saw them, the last time he and all his friends were together in the same place, it had been one of the best memories of his life. But now that was all gone. And he was forced to remember again. And he was forced to feel again. And he was forced to love My Chemical Romance again.

 

Nate stared at his computer. He had already purchased _Living With Ghosts_ , and his cursor was hovering over the play button. He squinted his eyes and imagined the pointing hand was a middle finger. He tried to will the screen to go away, to stop taunting him with memories that could never be replaced, never be replicated ever again. Because they would never be again. At least, for this hour he would spend listening, he could imagine they were.

 

~*~

 

_2017._

 

“I can’t believe you man. It’s not even like, an even number.”

 

“28 _is_ an even number, Nate.”

 

“Fuck you, you know what I meant.”

 

“Come on, just try and be nostalgic for once,” Lyle sighed dramatically.

 

“I’m nostalgic all the time,” Nate grumbled. “Every time I write a song.”

 

“Nate,” Lyle stopped and faced his friend. “Please?”

 

Nate rolled his eyes. “Fine,” and they kept walking. “You didn’t even tell me who the band was.”

 

~*~

 

“You’re shitting me.”

 

“Don’t be mad, ok? I know you don’t listen to his music but-”

 

“Lyle, you took me to a Frank Iero and the Patience concert.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh my fucking God.”

 

“Don’t be mad,” Lyle squeaked.

 

“I’m not,” Nate said. He looks around the small venue, something he might like to play someday. “Just…surprised. Oh, and for your information, I _do_ listen to his music.”

 

“Oh.” Lyle blinked. “Cool. This will be fun. Do you remember how to mosh, old man?”

 

“Trust me, I can do it better than you ever could.” Nate smiled threateningly.

 

“I accept your challenge.”

 

Nate was still pretty good at moshing. Lyle wouldn’t stop fucking laughing, that masochistic fuck. Nate could barely hear the music over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, but he knew how energetic Frank probably was on that stage, playing and screaming his heart out. He wanted to be just like him. _Fuck, no I don’t!_

 

He took a bad blow to the side. An elbow, fuck. Lyle noticed him falling and took him by the arm and dragged him out of the pit. “Shit, you good? I saw the life draining out of your eyes, man.”

 

Nate wheezed. “‘M good.” He had to remember that he didn’t really _know_ Frank. He might know a lot _about_ Frank, maybe too much, reminding Nate of his own fans. He sighed again.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Nate coughed and pushed Lyle’s arms off of him. “What?” Lyle points up to the second floor, where there are more people watching. His eyes trail across the line, trying to find who Lyle might be pointing at. “Bert McCracken? Oh shit!”

 

“Yeah but uh,” Lyle coughs. “No. Over _there._ ”

 

And there it is. Rather, _there they are._ Ray Toro, Mikey Way, and Gerard Way. At Frank Iero’s show. At _Nate’s_ show.

 

“I just breathed the same air as all of MCR,” Nate said, loudly into Lyle’s ear so he could hear over the music. “I’m never exhaling again.”

 

Lyle nodded. “Wouldn’t be your first time.” Then he elbowed Nate. Nate hissed in pain. “So you _do_ still like ‘em.”

 

Nate flipped him off. “Fuck you.” The music still played, the breakdown slowing and the vocals getting louder. “I always did,” Nate said, softly enough so that Lyle wouldn’t hear it.

 

~*~

 

“I wonder if they’re hanging out.”

 

“Like as friends? Probably,” Nate said. “That’s good though, doesn’t happen all the time.”

 

“Yeah,” Lyle threw a worried look at Nate, knowing how distressed he was after his band broke up.

 

“Anyway,” Nate chuckled nervously. “It was really great seeing you again, man.”

 

“Same dude, always.” And they gave each other huge hugs. “Make something cool,” Lyle pointed at Nate.

 

“Already did,” Nate told him, as _Sandcastle Kingdoms_ had just been released only weeks ago. “But I can always make something better.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

 

~*~

 

_Present day._

 

Nate gnaws on his lower lip, finding nothing to do other than hold his blank notebook and occasionally doodle something stupid. He fidgets with his pencil and sighs. He really has no ideas. This never happens.

 

 _A new cover maybe_ , he thinks, then remembered he had just been at the set for the filming of Cristina’s new cover. God, he was so proud. He puts everything down and decides to take a shower. Maybe new ideas will pop up then.

 

Still nothing.

 

He gets dressed and flops onto his bed. He faces up and tries to zone out from staring at the ceiling. In his head, he settles on a cover for now, because at this point he’s planning _way too far_ in advance and Shawn’s gonna give him so much shit if he starts writing his setlist for 2019.

 

A cover. But what, though? He wants to send out another tweet about it but at this point he’s probably done too many, and all he’s gonna get is more jokes about Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing.

 

He wants to look back at old Twitter threads for suggestions, then an idea hits him. He sits up and shakes his head furiously, slapping his face with both hands. _No!_ He hasn't done it for this long and he won’t do it now. Or will he?

 

Cristina comes home early. She’d been in New York for her new podcast for Power Rangers. They have casual conversation as per usual and during dinner he brings it up for her opinion.

 

“I say you do whatever you’d like. If you don’t want to, no one can force you. But if you feel like it’s right, you _know_ everyone’s gonna like it. And that includes me,” she says.

 

“You’re biased,” Nate picks at the food on his plate. “You like everything I do.”

 

“Ah, too true,” Cris admits. “But all I’m saying is, in the end it’s all gonna be up to _you_. So, no pressure or anything.”

 

“Thanks,” he jokes.

 

“No problem, you know I’ll still love ya.”

 

“I hope so, ‘cause I always will.”

 

“Aw, you’re too sweet.”

 

~*~

 

Nate puts the headphones over his ears. He can’t hear any of the surrounding sound. When he taps the mic in the booth, it makes sound which he can hear. He remembers building this booth specifically for this. He remembers getting all this equipment and putting it all together for this. To do what he loved. From the very beginning. And this, _this_ was what he loved. He wouldn’t deny it anymore.

 

He adjusts the headset once more. All the tracks are done except one. Vocals. He doesn’t know why he left that for last, it wasn’t his usual routine, but maybe he wanted it to be sentimental or something. He wanted to make it different. Old-school.

 

He puts his hand on the mouse. He drags the cursor to the Record button and takes a breath. He swallows, then realizes how dramatic he’s being about all this. It’s just a cover. But, it’s the first of this band, and maybe the last. Nate takes a more confident breath. Then he’ll make it the best.

 

Nate barely hears the click but feels it under his fingertip, and hears the immediate chord that followed. He can’t help but nod his head along to his own guitar, playing someone else’s song. This has happened before. He remembers what it’s like to feel like a cover won’t be as good as the original. But he’s still nervous. He’s _terrified_. But that’s fine. That’s okay. But Nate? He’s not okay.

 

_Well if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say…_


End file.
